A God's Troubled Thoughts
by BlackRougeRaven
Summary: After being defeated by the Avengers, Loki is imprisoned alone with his thoughts. Unfortunately his thoughts torment him, bringing one certain Avenger to his mind.
1. My Bleeding Heart

_"You're a monster!"_

"No, you brought the monster."

Natasha smirked as she realized his plan, clueing in whoever was on the receiving end of the intercom. Loki started at her, bewildered.

The red-head grinned as she said, "Thank you, for your cooperation."

* * *

Loki banged his fists on the side of his new prison cell, growling in rage silently through his muzzle. The memory and handcuffs seemed to mock him, as they both lingered where they were, in his mind and on his body, unwilling to leave his side. He understood why the bonds frustrated him, but he was unaware as to why the Russian SHIELD agent decided to torment his thoughts.

Those words. It was those wretched words. They echoed in his mind, laughing, mocking him. He swung his arms towards the wall again, taking satisfaction in the deep, resonating clang it made. Loki's eyes wandered to his wrists, eyebrows furrowing when he noticed a thin trail of blood flowing out of the bonds that wrapped his entire forearm and watched it trickle down his hands.

Subconsciously he brought his hands to his mouth, before realizing he couldn't lick the cut clean. Rolling his eyes, he sat down on the bench in his 'chambers'.

_"You're a monster. No one loves you. King? Forget about it. You'll never be a ruler."_

He threw his head against the wall, trying to force that voice out of his mind. She had never said those words, but she might as well have. He screamed, causing pain to erupt in his throat, then shrieked again when he couldn't hear his own voice; when he couldn't drown out the sound of those harsh, biting words.

_"A god? Please. You're not even close. You're a Joten. A Frost Giant. A monster."_

An ache started in his chest. It was small at first, not noticeable over the discomfort in his throat, but it slowly built up until he was clawing at his body. He had been sitting on the bench, but now he rolled off and started writhing on the floor. The fabric of his outfit started to tear and his fingernails caught his skin, shredding the spot above his heart before he actually realized what he was doing.

_"There's no way you can win. We'll beat you down. Rip you apart."_

Blood welled on his breast, instantly soaking what was left of his shirt. His breath had quickened and he lay still on the floor, trying to slow his intake of air. Carefully, he interlocked his fingers and placed them gingerly on the pool of blood, letting the sticky red stain his cream coloured fingers.

_"Look at you. You're a helpless child. No more than a stolen relic."_

He shut his eyes, hot tears streaming down his face. Leave me alone. He tried to understand, to figure out what the sudden pain in his heart had been. It was so new, so foreign.

_"Only the weak cry. Only the weak feel."_

It was terror. Pure terror.


	2. The Aftermath

Loki flinched when he heard the door open. It had been a few weeks since had had been let out of his prison and was allowed to roam free, as long as someone was with him at all times. That someone was usually Thor, who was trying his hardest to make Loki understand that everything was in the past, that Thor still loved his brother. Loki had been able to meet most of the Avengers since his release. All but one.

She walked through the door, red hair tied up in a loose ponytail. She had abandoned her SHIELD uniform for a tank top and jeans and sipped slowly from a can of Coca-Cola.

Natasha nodded her head in Loki's direction, but if she had noticed his twitching, she didn't let on. Ever since she had made her way into Loki's mind, he couldn't stop thinking about her; he wanted her out. Her words kept pestering his thoughts, keeping him up at night thinking about how wrong he was to believe he was a ruler, a king.

"So, Loki, how are you holding up?" She gave no sign that she cared, tilting her head back as she chugged down the rest of her soda. But he noticed something in her tone; a slight sense of curiosity was lingering there.

It threw him off guard. Did she care? Was she sorry for how she treated him? Of course she wasn't. They were similar, the Russian and the god; both would do anything it took to get the job done. Right?

"It is refreshing to be able to use my voice and to have the ability to move my hands again." Smiling grimly, he added, "Although Thor has done his best to not leave my side. It has become extremely irritating." Thor, who was standing a few feet away, tried to hide the pained look on his face.

Natasha grinned and, tossing the can in a nearby trash bin, settled down in a chair next to the troubled god. "Hey, lighten up. At least someone is trying to get you on the right track. If it was up to us, er, Midgard, they would have you locked up forever. Be glad anyone trusted you enough to get that muzzle and those handcuffs off."

The thoughts swirling around in Loki's head threatened to drive him over the edge. Was she being kind as a part of some sort of ruse? Or was she genuinely being sympathetic? All of this was conflicting against the mindset he had had for the past few months. And what if she was being honestly sensitive towards his situation? What then? He didn't think his mind was ready for such information.

She gently nudged his shoulder. "You okay, Loki?"

"I am fine. I am just…thinking. I was unaware you cared for my well-being."

Now it was Natasha's turn to leave an empty silence. It was a moment before she answered, "Well, I was…I'm unsure on how to feel about you right now." She shifted in her seat. "You killed because you wanted to, you engaged our world in war, and you threatened to have a man I've developed a close bond to kill me. I don't think your punishment was undeserved, but no man, or god, should spend his whole life rotting in a cell feeling sorry for himself."

Was this how all Midgardians thought? That no one really deserved to die? It was an interesting concept, not one he was used to. In his world, it was either kill or be killed. And the only way to have respect is if you shed a little blood. Sure, he had gotten out of hand with all the petty humans, but it had felt…good. But now, it made him think. Was he wrong? Was everything he had known to be true wrong?

"How do you know I was feeling sorry for myself? How do you know if I was plotting my revenge on your world?"

She laughed a small laugh, leaning back in her seat. "We don't, but I highly doubt you were. And besides, what's the point of world domination? Once you achieve that, there's nothing to work for. Plus it's lonely at the top."

"Well, I…I…" He stuttered, which was odd for him. What was the point? He had wanted respect, to be able to prove his worth as a prince, but now that he thought about it, fear wasn't respect. It was just fear. And he didn't want to be feared like that. "I'm sorry. I believe you're right."

Natasha blinked a few times. What just happened? Did she just…He was agreeing with her? "Um, okay. So…I'll talk to you later?"

The answer he gave was completely honest. "I hope so, Miss Romanov. It would be a pleasure."

As Natasha got up to leave, she thought she saw a hint of a smile on the god's lips, but it disappeared as Loki turned to converse with his brother.


End file.
